A Fresh Start
by yeonhii
Summary: Starry. An alternate version of events beginning with Tony's ruse to reunite Ste with Harry after Harry sleeps with James.
1. Chapter 1

**Rating Note:** This story is rated T for mature themes including recreational drug use, prostitution, and description of mild violence and sexual intimacy.

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 **Future Chapters:** I've roughly mapped out a story totalling in 7 chapters told from 3 points of view: Ste (chapters 1/7), Harry (chapters 2/4/6), and Tony (chapters 3/5). I'm open to suggestions for future chapters, so please send me a PM or leave a review if you have ideas! Chapter 1 took me ages to write, so please have patience for future chapters

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 **Chapter 1: Ste**

Do you know that feeling? The feeling of being stretched, pulled in two equally powerful yet terrifying directions but being paralysed, unable to let one side win? Ste was in that place now—a place he knew he couldn't stay for long. He knew this game of tug of war would end on one side or the other. And either way, he'd end up in the mud.

He was in Tony's flat, which felt uncomfortable enough, but Harry had emerged from upstairs, completely unexpectedly. Harry. Just saying that name in his head made Ste feel the biggest kind of alive, like an exploding star that couldn't control its own combustion, particles racing through the galaxy at speeds unrecorded. But that name also brought a dagger straight through his heart, cutting open an emptiness and a loss that was just as boundless as those distant galaxies, deep and thick with regret. How could this simple, bright-smiling boy contain such magnitudes?

The small bag of crystal meth was in the back pocket of his dark track bottoms, seeming to give off an energy of its own, as if it had a stench or emitted a signal that anyone could detect. As long as it was there, Ste's mind and body could not rest. They couldn't rest anyway—the drug made him nervous all the time; when he was high, he had no control over his own body, and when he was crashing, like he was beginning to now, he feared for his life.

But Harry—Harry made it worse. Harry: the world a bright path ahead of him, any opportunity and story waiting to unfold before him. Watching Harry, smiling, young, taking Tony's old memories out of boxes—memories that Harry was completely free of, unshackled—filled Ste with guilt. Ste envied him his naivety and felt two sides tugging at him again: wanting to hold Harry and protect him from any bad thing that could ever hurt him, and wanting to stay completely out of his life, knowing that he—Ste—was in fact the most likely source of any pain.

He'd agreed to stay and help sort Tony's things. Everything was changing so fast. Tony and Diane were leaving the country with Ant and Dee Dee. He was living in the same house as a dangerous psychopath who had more than likely killed his own brother, and his sisters refused to see the truth. James had ruined his life, had cost him his business and Harry. And now he was completely dependent on crystal meth and saw no way out. How did everything become such a mess and so quickly? Ste tried to tell himself that it was all just bad luck—that the cards were just stacked against him. But why was it always him? There must be a reason. And that reason must be Ste himself.

Ste realised he'd let his mind wander and Harry, standing on the other side of all the boxes and bags, was sneaking glances at him. Harry looked beautiful. Well, he always did. Today he wore his familiar Keds trainers along with blue jeans and a tight-fitting grey T-shirt that hugged his physique in all the right places. Even in hard times—like now—Harry always had a carefree air about him, like he had an invisible bubble surrounding him that any problem or stressor would bounce off, like the bumpers in a child's bowling lane.

Ste stood motionless, holding an old jumper he'd removed from the box in front of him. He tried to focus, to forget his craving for more of the drug burning a hole in his pocket, to forget his feelings for Harry—feelings that were making it increasingly difficult to remain in the room with him without wanting to slip his arms round his waist and pull him close, like he'd done a thousand times before. He never tired of that feeling; it was familiar and comfortable, yet somehow new and exciting every time. No one had ever given Ste butterflies every time they touched the way Harry did.

"Thanks for helping me with all this," Harry said tentatively, his deep yet bright voice putting Ste back in the present situation. "I can't believe Dad's leaving."

Ste felt a twist of pain as he remembered again that Tony was really leaving, perhaps for a very long time. He focussed on the old clothes he was folding in front of him as he spoke. "It's a good thing he's really getting a chance to do what he loves, make a mark." As much as he was hurting to lose Tony after only just getting his friendship back, Ste realised he meant what he said. "He deserves it after all the good he's done here—after all he's done for me."

He felt Harry watching him. "You mean when you worked at Il Gnosh?"

Ste nodded, staring down at the short pile of old jumpers he'd folded. "I made so many mistakes, and Tony was the one person who believed in me. He trusted me, gave me a job, taught me what I know. He's the one person who gave me a chance when no one else would." He tossed the now empty box aside and set about starting on a linen basket full of knick-knacks.

"Don't' suppose you could give me another chance, could you?"

And there it was. The elephant in the room had emerged in full view. Ste knew he was in no state to discuss this, and even just hearing Harry's words filled his mind once again with disgusting images of him and James together. He felt sick. How could Harry have done it? Ste remembered what it was like when he was 18; he felt… invincible, a grown man equal to any other, fully capable of making his own decisions and taking on any challenge. He knew Harry thought he'd had power in making that decision for them, when it was in fact James who had taken Harry's power—and perhaps taken a part of his spirit he would never get back. Then again, maybe it was better Harry thought he'd been in control. Maybe he'd be protected that way.

"Look, I know I messed up with James," Harry said.

"Harry," was all Ste could manage, letting the irritation come through in his voice. He didn't know what he wanted, but he could feel the conversation heading in a direction he wasn't ready for, and the need to ease his come-down with what was hidden in his back pocket was growing.

"And I know it was horrible what I did, but at the time it seemed like our only way out." The pain in Harry's voice was unmistakable.

Ste felt tears burning behind his eyes as he looked down at a toy dinosaur, and remembered what James had said to him. Ste had driven Harry to prostitution. If Ste had just listened to Tony, ended it with Harry for good, sent him home—none of this would be happening. But he knew, even now, he could never have done that. Every moment with Harry made his life bearable—no, wonderful; being with Harry made him feel like he could be himself again after… well maybe for the first time ever. There was a joy and a freedom and an ease and an excitement that he'd never felt before, and maybe Tony had been right; maybe Harry was another addiction for him. But if that was true, then Harry was the healthiest, most life-affirming, loving, caring, confidence-boosting, stabilising addiction he could ever have. How could that be a bad thing?

Ste could see from the corner of his eye that Harry had stopped packing, and was set on his mission to see this conversation through. But Ste didn't want to talk. Despite everything, Harry's attention was making him weak in the knees, and he felt those butterflies in his stomach again. What was it about Harry's mere presence in a room that got Ste excited? He wanted to hold and kiss Harry, to just forget anything had ever happened, deny it had ever happened, go back to the beginning when things were clear and simple and it was just the two of them against the world. But there was no going back.

Harry took a step closer round the corner of the table, his jeans brushing against it, his right hand thoughtlessly fumbling with a stuffed bear as he spoke. "But it was the worst thing I could've done and I should've talked to you and—and I'm so sorry!" Harry sighed and paused for a breath to calm himself. "I was an idiot."

Harry was anything but an idiot, Ste thought. He was incredibly smart. He couldn't count the number of times Harry's advice had saved him. Maybe that was why they had worked so well together; Harry had intelligence, and for better or worse, Ste had experience.

"You're not an idiot, Harry," Ste said with a sigh, his eyes fixed on the purple brontosaurus he was fiddling with on top of the pile of toys. "But maybe it's best we just go our separate ways, yeah?" He didn't think he meant it, not really, but he needed this conversation to end and he couldn't focus with Harry edging ever closer to him; the closer he got, the more Ste wanted to touch him, and he couldn't let that happen. He felt a headache growing in addition to his anxiety and the shaking sensation he was feeling in his arms. The walls were closing in and he was starting to panic.

Harry took another step closer so he was next to Ste and his voice got higher, disbelief mixed with pleading. "That's the worst thing we could do!" Harry gently grabbed Ste's upper arm, turning him so Ste had no choice but to look him in the eye. Harry's eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes bright and gorgeous blue but full of pain, his rosy face young yet showing a thousand memories they'd shared together—memories that Ste so desperately longed to revisit. He loved Harry. In that moment, he knew it without the shadow of doubt. His feelings were as strong as they'd ever been. But everything was a mess, Ste was a mess, Harry had lied; how could they go back from that?

"We're a team, and we can get through this together, I know we can." Harry was holding both of Ste's arms now, gripping him as if afraid Ste would slip through his fingers if he let go.

Harry was nothing if not persistent. All the times Harry had chased Ste back when they first got together flashed across the screen of Ste's mind like an old projector. He felt the slightest of smiles as he remembered telling Harry he'd found it annoying. He realised it was just another thing about Harry that he adored. But it was all in the past now. Ste took Harry's hands off his arms, took a breath, and tried to calm his nerves. "Look, Harry. We had our chance, and it didn't work out, ok? We both need to move on."

The look on Harry's face was one Ste had never seen before. That magical bubble around him seemed to have popped, fear and shock filled Harry's face, and tears instantly welled in his eyes. He looked heavy, like he'd learned some horrible new truth about the world and didn't know what it meant. Ste's heart broke again seeing that face, and he instantly regretted his words. He couldn't deal with this. He needed to get out of here. Now. He was only making things worse. He turned for the front door, only a few feet away. "I'm sorry Harry, I've gotta go."

Ste's movement seemed to snap Harry out of his despair and he rushed to the door before Ste could get there, blocking his exit. Harry once again showed that remarkable resilience that always seemed to allow him to snap back like a rubber band. Ste felt relieved. "How can you say that!?" Harry shouted, his vigour returned, his hands on Ste's chest, pushing him away from the door. "You don't mean that. I know this is all my fault, but after everything we've got through together, how amazing we are together, you can just drop it all and forget about us!? About me!?"

"O' course I can't forget about ya!" Ste yelled, too flustered to fight himself any longer, unable to stop his impulses from taking control. "I never STOP thinking about ya, that's the problem!" Ste realised he was losing this battle, whatever it was. And he knew he couldn't win it—not verbally anyway. He reached for the door handle, to the right of Harry… and Harry leaned over and kissed him. It was a peck—Ste was moving too fast for anything more—but despite having managed to grab the latch on the door, it stopped Ste in his tracks. Harry lifted his head and kissed Ste again, a bit slower, his lips lingering on Ste's just a little longer this time. Ste felt a sharp intake of breath. Butterflies. A rush of blood to his groin.

Harry put his hands on Ste's waist and started to lean in again, but Ste was already letting go of the door and holding Harry's neck, and their lips met again, this time parting as Ste explored Harry's mouth with his tongue. Harry was kissing him back with fervour and it had been so long, Ste had almost forgotten how good this felt. He remembered now. He felt his veins on fire, felt Harry's smooth skin in his hands, his soft lips on his own, and his heart rate was doubled in a second.

Ste took a short breath through his mouth as he broke the kiss only to turn his head to the side, his nose brushing against Harry's as he got a better angle to kiss him deeply again. He loved Harry's height; he spread his legs just slightly to get both closer and lower to Harry. Harry's upper back hit the door behind him as Ste leaned forward, letting his hands drop to explore Harry's chest and then his abdomen, feeling Harry's hands gripping his back, and travelling up to his neck. As much as Ste wanted Harry, the way Harry kissed him—with a kind of possessive forcefulness, a latent, matured masculinity—always made Ste feel just as desired, the object of Harry's affections. Ste craved that.

He managed to break away from Harry's deep kiss to pull Harry's T-shirt over his head and toss it on the floor. Harry smelled so good, a mix of his aftershave and a hint of salty-sweet body odour. His muscled body looked edible. Ste grabbed Harry's small waist and before Harry could kiss him again, Ste placed his lips under Harry's ear, then more kisses on his long neck and on to his hairless chest, letting his tongue taste a hint of salt on Harry's skin.

As Ste's lips and tongue made their way to Harry's right nipple, Harry let out a quiet whimper which was a sound Ste had deeply missed and an incredible turn-on. He wanted Harry so badly, even more than usual. Maybe because they'd been apart, or maybe was it because he'd heard that meth increases libido? Wait. Meth. He was on crystal meth. He couldn't do this. He was already unbuttoning Harry's flies when he took his mouth off Harry's neck and stopped himself. Harry was breathing heavily, flushed, and Ste saw Harry now open his big blue eyes, his face transforming from one of lust and pleasure to that of surprise and confusion.

Ste struggled to collect himself, his heart still racing and still very much excited. "This isn't right. I've made a mistake."

"What?" Harry was still breathless. "What do you mean?"

Ste bent down and picked up Harry's shirt off the floor, putting it in Harry's hand. "I mean, this was mistake!" He instinctively put his hand in his back pocket, feeling the small baggie inside. Yep. Still there. "I should never have come here in the first place. I'm going."

He went for the door latch again, but Harry grabbed him and stood his ground in front of the door. "Please, Ste. We belong together. We're stronger _together_." His eyes were full of pleading, his voice high again. "We can sort this; I know we can. Just give me a chance to prove that I'm worth it!"

"Don't you get it, Harry!? _I'm_ not worth it, okay!? Now let me go!" He pushed Harry aside, and opened the door.

"What-? What are you talking about? Of course you are!"

Harry, despite still being topless, was following Ste outside. Ste was exasperated; he needed to end this. He needed to get away. He needed his fix. He turned round to face Harry. "Just stop right there, Harry. Stop." Ste could feel his hand shaking as he pointed at Harry. His head was banging. "You—you lied to me. There's no going back from that. We're finished." Ste didn't even know what he was saying anymore, but it seemed to be working, as Harry stood stunned in front of the flat's open doorway. "Now don't follow me." Ste turned, managed to get his key in the lock to his door despite his shaking hand, and escaped inside, slamming the door behind his back.

No one was home. He rushed to the sideboard under the window, where he'd hidden the glass pipe Cam had given him. It took him some frantic scrounging, but he managed to find it in one of the drawers. He closed the curtains to make sure no one could see inside and took the small bag out of his pocket. Just as he was about to open it, he heard the distant muffled sound of Tony's flat door quietly being closed. He shut his eyes. The tears were instantaneous. They rolled down his cheeks before his face could even react. But it did, contorting into a tight frown, and he couldn't stop the guttural sobs that seemed to come from somewhere deep and hidden in his body from escaping his open mouth.

He furiously flung the bag of meth away from him, as if it was a grenade, and it landed at the foot of the sofa. He let himself fall back, his back against the wall, and he slumped down on the ground, holding his knees in front of him, letting himself cry, defeated. He looked around at the empty house, the empty furniture, the lonely space. He looked again at the tiny bag of meth just lying there looking completely innocuous on the floor. He stared at it through his tears, shaking, his headache growing, sweat starting to join the tears on his pained face. He knew it was only a matter of time before he'd have to take another hit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Harry**

"Just stop right there, Harry. Stop." Harry watched Ste turn round next to the Lomax doorway and point back at him, looking wild, completely panicked, his eyes shifting back and forth in his head like he was desperately searching his brain for what to say next. Despite this, there was a power, an authoritative presence in the way Ste made his command. Harry felt hurt and confused but couldn't help finding Ste's decisiveness attractive.

They were outside, feet apart, but Harry still felt flushed and aroused from Ste's kisses, and wished Ste was still touching him. Why had he suddenly stopped and run out? It was like there was something Ste wasn't telling him. Harry knew he'd hurt Ste, but it was as if there was a guilt in Ste's eyes, which didn't make sense since he'd done nothing wrong. And why did Ste say that he wasn't worth it? After all, it was Harry who needed to prove himself, not the other way round.

Ste looked as if he'd found the words he'd been searching for. "You—you lied to me. There's no going back from that. We're finished." A rock formed out of nowhere and landed heavily in Harry's stomach. He felt his eyes sting and his nostrils flare, knowing tears would soon follow. "Now don't follow me." Ste quickly turned, fumbled with his keys, and before Harry could react, had disappeared inside the Lomax house, the door slamming behind him.

The harsh sound was like a slap in the face and it triggered the tears; they fell down Harry's cheeks before he could really grasp what was happening. He haphazardly wiped them away, realising his T-shirt was still in his hand, and he was outside without a top on. He looked at Ste's door, desperate to go after him, to talk to him, even just to see him. He didn't understand it, but everything was okay when he was with Ste. It was even okay if Ste was furious with him, but being apart from him was unbearable.

He stood in the outdoor corridor, suddenly feeling its emptiness, the emptiness seeming to seep into his skin right down to his bones, a silence, a hollow nothingness and a loneliness that warmed his cheeks yet again with more tears. He heard leaves being ruffled by a breeze in the distance, felt it brush against the little hairs on his arms. The faint sounds of children playing somewhere below. How long ago was it that Ste had shut the door? It could have been years. The concept of Ste's absence from his life hit Harry like an ocean wave, and it was too much to bear. He switched off the idea altogether in his brain, and even through his tears, he found a new resolve to somehow get him back. He could get him back. He would. He must.

His eyes seemed to somehow find their focus again, and after one last look at Ste's door, he turned back inside, closing his own door behind him. He saw the boxes and bags scattered across the living room, almost as if they somehow contained a part of Ste, held the cheeriness and life of his presence. Was Ste really just in the room with him a moment ago? He saw the purple dinosaur that Ste had absentmindedly been fiddling with, and it felt as if someone had died. Ste's just next door, Harry told himself, trying to fill the terrifying emptiness that had now penetrated the walls of the flat. He needed to focus, to think. He'd lied to Ste, and he somehow needed to find a way to show Ste that he could trust him again. He needed to sort a way to make things right.

He put his T-shirt back on, and realised the top two buttons of his flies were undone. God. It just felt so good being with Ste, knowing that Ste wanted him as much as he did Ste. Sex with Ste just kept getting better and better the longer they were together, and even though they knew each other's bodies so well now, and knew what each other liked, it somehow felt different and exciting every time. As he buttoned his jeans, he remembered their first time together, how they were both a bit tentative—wanting each other so much, but not wanting to rush things or do something that would be uncomfortable for the other.

Ste was full of dichotomies that night; he was aggressive yet gentle, rough but then tender, fast and then slow, and both selfish and selfless. Harry's experiences with Cleo and that girl in Spain had felt…mechanical, like there was a set way to do things, and you followed them in order. And he remembered it being awkward and extremely self-conscious for both parties, and neither of them really knowing what they were doing. But with Ste… Harry blushed just thinking about it. Ste was insatiable. And on a whole other level. That first time, Ste had wanted to make Harry feel safe and comfortable, but there was an honesty in everything he did, like he genuinely felt and wanted to do exactly what he was doing. He was so passionate. Harry had never wanted anyone so badly. And the way Ste had torn Harry's clothes off, touched him and kissed him—he'd never felt more wanted back.

He remembered how incredible it felt to have Ste's body against his for the first time, touching each other, that freeing feeling you get when you're naked, knowing the other person could see all of you, and touch any part of you, that there was nothing you could hide. Somehow, now that Ste knew everything, knew what he'd done with James, it was as if Ste was seeing him in all his nakedness, flaws and all, and somehow, as horrible as it was, it made them feel closer.

He hadn't realised until the truth had all come tumbling out that he'd been slowly drifting further and further away from Ste. Keeping the secret hadn't been difficult, and every day that went by, the truth seemed to sink further and further into himself, as if it was a black hole being condensed into such a small form that it almost didn't exist. He'd wanted it to not exist so badly, he'd almost convinced himself it didn't. But, like a black hole, if it was found, it was revealed to contain a whole universe, an endless expanse—in this case, of pain and deceit.

Harry remembered the look of incredulity and betrayal in Ste's eyes when he'd confronted Harry with the truth, and it had felt as if the earth had fallen out from underneath his feet. It was a look he never wanted to see on Ste's face again. The thought that he had the power to affect Ste so deeply was both wonderful and terrifying; all he wanted to do was to make Ste happy, make him smile, make him proud. Seeing Ste in pain, and that he—Harry—was the cause of that pain was eye-opening and devastating. If Harry really had that kind of power, then he could make Ste feel wonderful as well—make him feel as incredible a person as Harry saw when he looked at Ste. He loved Ste so much, more than anyone or anything in his whole life, and he just wanted Ste to feel that love. He needed to do whatever it took to make sure Ste felt it again, the way Harry felt so loved when he was with Ste.

Harry realised he'd been pacing the room preoccupied with his thoughts, and the sound of the front door opening snapped him out of his reverie. He was behind the kitchen island when Tony entered with a half sheepish, half concerned look on his face. His hair was a bit ruffled by the wind and his tan jacket was unzipped and askew. He carried a few folded cardboard boxes and two Price Slice shopping bags filled with files and folders all in one hand, while his other fumbled with the door. He was alone.

Tony looked as if he was unsure whether it was safe to enter or not, his head scanning the room and landing on Harry with a frown. He closed the door behind him with his foot. "Alright, son?" he asked tentatively. Harry couldn't think of an answer. "We were coming out of The Hu—er, _Nightingales_ ," Tony corrected himself with clenched teeth, "to pick up the last of our things, and heard Ste shouting." Harry sighed. Now, on top of everything else, he felt embarrassed as well. "Did you two have a row?" Tony questioned.

"Where are Diane and the twins?" Harry asked, hoping he could change the subject.

The question seemed to perk his dad up, as he always did when he talked about Diane. "Oh, they've just gone off to town to do some shopping for the move. Can't show up in a new country without the finest in souvenirs from old Blighty, can we!?" When Harry gave no response, Tony lost his smile and cleared his throat, his usual uncomfortable expression when he'd made a joke no one laughed at. "But they'll be back in a bit," he finished, trying to keep the mood cheery. He set the boxes and bags on the table with a grunt, adding to the present clutter. He let out a big sigh; clearly it was a relief to be rid of his baggage. He clapped his hands together and looked up at Harry.

"Okay," Harry said, touching his face, making sure there weren't any tears remaining there, hoping his eyes weren't red. He needed some space to think, to plan his next move. "Well, now that you're back, I guess I can finally head to the gym then," he said, trying to sound casual. He didn't really want to go, and he wasn't sure the work out would generate any ideas, but he didn't want to be here either. The thought of going up to his room alone to wallow in his thoughts was dreadful. And seeing Tony excited and happy about moving just made him feel worse. He was happy for his dad, but Tony's enthusiasm was just a reminder that he'd soon be gone and Harry would be even more alone.

Harry started for the door, but Tony blocked his path, putting his hands out in front of him like a shield. "Now, now hold on a minute there, mister. I want to know what happened with Ste. Why was he shouting?"

Harry was torn. His dad had been so great and understanding since Ste had found out the truth and Harry had moved back in. A year ago, Harry never would have thought that Tony—this bloke he didn't even really know, this guy who he'd only seen as his father in name or in biology—would be the one person he could turn to when everything went pear-shaped. He remembered being so terrified that Tony would be disgusted or disappointed when he caught him and Ste together at Pride last year. It already felt like a century ago. Yes, Tony had done everything in his power to keep him away from Ste, and Harry had even been convinced at one point he could never forgive his father, but in the end, Tony had proved to be the one shoulder he could cry on, and his biggest supporter. His father was warm and compassionate. Harry loved him.

On the other hand, it was his _dad_. Talking about a row he'd had with his older boyfriend—well, now _ex_ -boyfriend—was just…weird, not to mention the fact that Ste was Tony's best mate and that Harry's actions had caused Tony to lose The Hutch altogether. He thought he wanted to talk, but had no idea where to begin.

Tony seemed to have noticed Harry's hesitation. "Come on, Harry, you know you can trust me. Just tell me what happened. Is he still upset about James?" Harry cringed at the name. "Like I said, you're not the only lad who's ever strayed into foreign waters," Tony added with a smirk and a nudge as he took his jacket off and tossed it on the sofa. Like clockwork, Tony was making this 100 times more embarrassing than it needed to be. And yet, he continued on: "Ste's made mistakes too. Surely he can understand?"

As if Harry would ever actually cheat on Ste if he'd seen any other way to solve their problems. Of course now, in hindsight, he could see that there were a million other ways they could have sorted something, and if Harry had just waited one night— _one night_ —they would both still be safely living with the Lomaxes, and they'd be together and happy. But that day, the thought of Ste doing even one drug deal, and putting himself at risk of getting caught up in that lifestyle again, of getting caught by police, or worst yet, of being tempted to do some of those drugs himself was just not an option. Ste was so strong, but drugs were such a powerful thing, and from attending some of Ste's drug counselling sessions, he knew how easy it was for any addict to slip up. There was no way Harry could let that happen.

"Come on son, sit down. I'll make us a brew," Tony said, grabbing Harry by the shoulder and leading him back over to the kitchen. Typical Tony, Harry thought. Tea and food. Those were his two answers to everything. "Diane and the kids won't be back for a while yet, and I need a rest after lugging boxes and bags around all afternoon."

"You were only out half an hour," Harry mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Tony asked, grabbing the kettle and filling it under the sink.

"Hm? Oh, nothing," Harry replied, sitting on one of the high stools next to the island.

"You know, you and Ste were meant for each other. I've never seen two more stubborn people in my life," Tony mused, turning off the tap and putting the kettle on. "Well, except myself, o' course," he added with a smile, putting his hands up as if defending himself. Harry looked down and took an apple out of the fruit dish, letting it roll around in his fingers, needing a distraction. He still felt awkward discussing this, but he was grateful for his dad's support all the same. "I mean, the way you two have been gawking at each other in passing, it's obvious you're both still crazy about each other. I figured just putting you in the same room together ought to do the trick," Tony added with a hint of exasperation.

Harry looked up. Tony was taking two mugs out of the cupboard as he finished speaking, and turned round to set them on the island. He met Harry's gaze. "That was you," Harry realised. He sighed. "Of course that was you." Obviously Ste never would have just randomly shown up to help him pack Tony's things, but he was so distracted and preoccupied with Ste's mere presence, so happy to be with him again, he just hadn't put two and two together.

"Guilty as charged," Tony admitted. He sighed. "I really thought my little ruse would work," he added with a disappointed shrug.

Harry shook his head, his hand covering his eyes, and couldn't help but smile. It was in moments like this that he couldn't believe this was actually his reality. He was living in Hollyoaks village with his estranged father—who had actually proved to be more attentive to him than his mum who'd raised him from birth—who was now helping him with his gay love life. And that love was in fact his dad's own best mate. If someone had told Harry all this two years ago, he would never have believed them. And yet here he was.

He looked up at Tony. He looked contemplative as he put a tea bag in the teapot in front of him, tea cosy at the ready. What a complete 180° his dad had done in the past few months. Harry knew it couldn't have been easy for Tony to accept him and Ste together, but he'd done some truly horrific things in his efforts to split them up. He'd grassed on Ste to the police about his coke, threatened to sue Harry unless Ste signed over his portion of The Hutch, and essentially told Harry he wasn't welcome in his home if he was with Ste.

Yet all that seemed like ancient history now. Harry had forgiven him completely. And he'd never thought in a million years he would have the courage to love a man deeply and openly, and that his father would support him, but that was exactly what had happened. And now here he was, his dad making him tea, giving him advice, trying to find a way to help his boyfriend forgive him after he'd cheated with another man. James. The man who now owned his father's business.

"Dad," Harry started, still shaking his head, "who ever thought we'd see the day you were playing matchmaker to me and Ste, eh?"

Tony let out a short chuckle. "Well," he said with a shrug, "I figured it was about time I started behaving like a grown-up, you know, a real dad, not like a daft teenage boy." He glared at Harry with a smirk, and Harry rolled his eyes. But Tony's smug expression quickly turned serious. He'd had another thought. He took a breath. "I was a right muppet to you and to Ste, and I never should have done any of the awful things I did to you both. You deserve so much better, Harry, and I'm sorry." He paused, a determined look forming on his face. "I'm gonna do right by you from now on. That's a promise. I'm gonna be someone you can be proud to call your dad."

Harry looked back down at the apple in his hands as he felt his dad's eyes on him. He felt tears well in his eyes again. Truly, he was overwhelmed. Thankfully, the uncomfortable silence was broken by the kettle button popping, as the water was heated. "Ah," Tony reacted, turning back to the counter to fetch it.

But the tears in Harry's eyes flowed over and onto his cheeks, and he was having trouble breathing. He couldn't control himself. He felt a tightness in his chest. The tears continued to flow, his face scrunched up in a frown, and his breathing was so short it became audible in the room.

Tony heard him, and immediately stopped pouring the water into the teapot. "Son?"

Harry couldn't see the apple anymore; his vision was too blurred by his tears. He knew what he was about to do before he even had the thought. It was like his body knew what was coming before his brain, like sweat on a summer's day, or arms popping out to lessen a fall. "Dad," Harry said, his voice quivering, not bothering to wipe the tears that dropped onto his lap, just staring down at the blurry red mass that was once an apple.

"Son, what is it?" Harry could hear the worry in his dad's voice, but he was on a rapid river approaching a waterfall, and there was nothing that could stop him now. The fall was inevitable.

"The Hutch." Harry was having trouble speaking through his restrained sobs. "The loan sharks."

"What?" Tony was confused.

"The loans sharks never took me, Dad. They never sent you that photo."

"I don't—I don't understand, Harry. What are you saying?"

Harry took one last deep breath, and somehow found the courage to lift his head and look his father in the eye. "I was never kidnapped, Dad. It was me and James. We—we scammed you together."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Tony**

Tony stood by the kitchen island, his hand holding the kettle, hovering over the half-full teapot, but not pouring a drop. One look at the state of his son sat on one of the high stools in front of him, shaking, had literally frozen him in fear and worry. Harry's head was bowed, his breathing short and laboured, and Tony saw a tear drop from his buried face onto the apple he was now gripping more tightly than necessary. Harry had filled out physically since they'd reacquainted in Spain 3 years ago and had matured into a dependable, responsible adult, but looking at him now, Tony saw a scared little boy.

"Son, what is it?" Tony couldn't remember himself being this scared in a very long time. Why was his son in so much pain?

"The Hutch," Harry managed to say through his now audible sobs. "The loan sharks."

"What?" Tony responded, as he finally set down the kettle, anxious and unsatisfied with Harry's curt reply. Then he remembered. Harry's shirt had been torn, he'd had a black eye. Had they done something more to him that Harry had kept secret? Tony could feel a panic coming on. His sweet son.

Harry continued to shake and stare down at the apple in his hands. "The loan sharks never took me, Dad." He was half crying, half talking. "They never sent you that photo."

The loan sharks never took him? Then where did his black eye come from? "I don't—I don't understand, Harry. What are you saying?" Tony hoped he sounded patient.

Harry lifted his head to reveal his red, puffy eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks, and an expression that could only mean one thing: guilt. "I was never kidnapped, Dad," he said, looking his father in the eye, more pain on his face than Tony was comfortable with. "It was me and James. We—we scammed you together."

Tony was more confused now than he'd been a moment ago. "Scammed?" he asked, grabbing a couple of tissues from the counter and passing them to Harry. "What are you talking about, Harry? They threatened to hurt you. They had a photo of you. You had a black eye!"

"That was James," Harry responded, putting the apple on the island top and wiping his runny nose. "James punched me because I let him. It had to look believable."

Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So your life wasn't in danger? You and James—you pretended to be the loan sharks? But why?" Tony couldn't wrap his head around it all. It was too much to take in.

"So you'd sell The Hutch to him." Harry's tears were letting up and he was speaking more easily now. "If you thought my life was in danger, you would do whatever it took to get the money straight away."

Tony stared at Harry. He couldn't match the guilty, anguished face with the horrendous things that were coming out of his mouth. He could feel his voice getting tight and clipped. "Why would you do that? Why would you help James?"

Harry took a breath, looking embarrassed. "'Cos if I didn't, he was gonna tell Ste…what we did."

Tony's heart rate was slowly increasing and his cheeks were feeling hot. He put his hands down flat on the island's counter-top, almost as if to steady himself. He recognised the feeling that was now flaring up inside him for what it was: anger. "So, he blackmailed you. Into deceiving me. Your own father." Harry was looking back at him, his face still wet with tears, full of worry and fear. "And you let him."

"I didn't know what else to do!" Harry answered, putting the used tissue on the island next to him, his tears seeming to have let up for the moment. "And he said the business was going downhill anyway, that you were just too stubborn to see the truth. That you needed a kick in the right direction. That you would end up having to sell anyway!"

"Oh, and that makes it okay, then does it!?" Tony was furious. "Marnie had her eye on that place from day one, even had Scott wrapped around her little finger, sabotaging us. Now you as well!?" Harry looked like he wanted to interject, but Tony wasn't finished. He was connecting the dots, and he was incensed. "This whole time, everyone's just been laughing at me, you included! How could you take their side, betray me!?" He'd taken a step back and was starting to pace back and forth, worked up. Each realisation he made seemed more horrible than the last. "And you've been carrying this around for months now! Facing me every day, you never said a thing! Were you _ever_ going to tell me!?"

"I—I'm telling you now! I'm _sorry_!"

"So, what, was all of that payback? Because I didn't support you and Ste?" Tony couldn't believe Harry could be behind something so calculating. "You had to destroy my business? My livelihood!? I put my life into that place!"

"So did Ste!" Harry shouted back. "And you ripped it right out from under him! How could you do that to him!? You built that place together!"

Tony's breath stopped for a moment, his mouth open; he was taken aback. He realised there were many things that had still gone unsaid between him and his son. He studied Harry's young face, somehow looking both guilty and betrayed at the same time. Tony frowned, confused by his own feelings. "I know," he admitted, shaking his head. "I know we did."

He took a breath and turned away from Harry, walking out of the kitchen toward the living room, his hands on either side of his forehead, thoughts swimming round in his head. He remembered wanting Ste out of his life—out of his business life at the very least, and James approaching him, offering his services as a solicitor against Harry. He realised it was all just part of James's complex plan to secure The Hutch for his wicked mother. How could he have been so blind? James had just used Tony's anger toward Ste for his own Machiavellian purposes.

Tony tried to make sense of his thoughts. "I guess I let James manipulate me as well. He took us all for a ride; I can see that now." He turned round to look at his son sitting uncomfortably on the high stool, his head down, seeming sheepish and at a loss for words. Tony stared at him, still in shock and disbelief that his 18-year-old son could slyly betray him like this, and that he'd been lying to his face for months.

"But I was always upfront with you and with Ste." Tony let himself do what he desperately wanted to do right now: attack. "I never would have gone behind your backs and fell in league with a snake like James like you did! Is this the kind of person you are, Harry!?" Tony knew he was getting carried away, but he couldn't stop himself. "What is it with you and lying to protect your secrets, eh? I thought we'd dealt with all this when you finally came clean about John Paul!"

Tony had clearly struck a nerve; Harry looked up at him, surprised and wounded. Tony loved his son, but he was glad. He wanted Harry to feel some of the pain and consequence he was feeling now. Tony had really thought he'd taken important steps in improving his relationship with his son, but now it felt like their bond had shattered into a million tiny pieces, like a crystal glass hitting the floor. Maybe they'd never reconciled anything at all. "I feel like I don't even know you!" Tony yelled.

"You _don't_ know me, Dad! That's the point!" Harry stood, angrily kicking the stool out of the way behind him. "You don't know anything about me, 'cos you were too busy chasing women or having fun with your mates to even care about your own son!"

That stung. "You know I always wanted a relationship with you, Harry. It's not what your mother wanted!"

"Yeah, or not what _you_ really wanted," Harry mumbled bitterly.

"That's not true, and you know it. I wanted more than anything to be a part of your life," Tony affirmed earnestly. He sighed, hurt that Harry still doubted his love so much, and guilty that he himself was to blame. "But you're right. I wasn't. Maybe if I'd been there for you from the start, none of this would have happened."

Harry quickly lost his sour demeanour and actively reached out. "I'm sorry, Dad. You have to believe me. I didn't want to do any of it! But James didn't give me a choice."

Tony sighed. "There's always a choice, Harry. And you chose to lie." Harry quickly opened his mouth to speak, then abruptly stopped, a concerned frown forming on his face. He stared back at Tony, unsure of what to say, letting the silence take over the room.

Tony felt vindicated. Why was he so satisfied at winning an argument with his teenage son? Tony was the adult with maturity and age, with experience. He was a father. He should be supporting Harry, being the better man, not letting his emotions get the best of him. But he was just so hurt, and his pride was in shreds. It was one thing to have that snaky solicitor get the better of him, but that his own son had conspired against him? And that he'd been walking round trying to keep the mood chipper, smiling, supporting Harry through his break up with Ste, trying his best to comfort him, when all the time Harry was responsible for the loss of his business, and had secretly been in alliance with James and Marnie?

Diane and the twins wouldn't be back for a while. He had time. He grabbed the jacket he'd only just put on the sofa a few moments ago, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going!?" Harry asked, frustrated.

"To have a word with Mr. Fraud," Tony responded irritably over his shoulder. "No one gets away with destroying my business without facing the wrath of Tony Hutchinson!" He knew he sounded cheesy, but he didn't care. His awkward sense of humour was a coping mechanism.

"No, Dad, you can't!" Harry panicked, rushing to follow him.

"I can, and I will!" Tony snapped back, his hand on the door latch, turning back to look at Harry. He pointed up at him. "And don't you dare follow me! This is between me and… praying mantis lawyer!"

"Dad, please _don't_!" Harry begged, but Tony was already out the door. He slammed it behind him, and rushed down the outdoor corridor, swinging his jacket up and over him, slipping his arms into the sleeves. As he passed the Lomax door, he wondered if he should have it out with Ste as well? Surely he must have known too? He thought better of it and continued on down the steps, knowing he had a score to settle before he was ready to approach Ste on the subject. He was fuming, and impatient to give James a piece of his mind. He needed to face his enemy.

He'd just come from The Hutch, so he knew James wasn't there. For a lawyer, James certainly seemed to spend a lot of time in the village, rather than at his office in town. He would try Marnie's flat. Two peas in a pod, those two were. Or rather, two matching stinky socks that both needed to be taken to the laundry. Or just thrown in the bin like the rubbish they were. Everything James had done—convincing Tony to sue Harry, having Ste sign over his portion of the restaurant, pretending to be concerned about his family's financial situation, and probably even sleeping with Harry, for that matter—was to get his claws into his business and snatch it out from under him. He felt his rage boiling over again from deep in his gut, flaring up into his cheeks once more.

As he rushed through the village's back alley toward Marnie's flat, he thought of Harry. He couldn't believe it when Tessie had suddenly showed up at his 30th birthday party with precocious 8-year-old Harry, announcing that he was his son. Tony had been terrified and overjoyed at once. He'd always been distant from his son, both physically and emotionally. He'd never had enough time to spend with him or support him or just be there for him through all of life's little challenges. He should have made more of an effort to reach out.

15-year-old Harry had been a bit of a nightmare in Spain. He'd showed all the signs of an angry, neglected teenager, and Tony knew he was to blame. He still cursed himself for letting Harry join him there, exposing him to all that danger. But in the end, the barrier between them had thinned ever so slightly, and that was when they'd started building something Tony could call a "relationship". It was a strained one, and the physical distance between them didn't help, but Tony had been adamant with Tessie that he wanted to keep in contact with Harry, and in the end, Tessie had relented. Tony knew it would take more than a phone call a week and an occasional visit to make up for years of absence, but he had to start somewhere.

Tony knew his son well enough that he could be cheeky, snarky and could fight dirty if he needed to. But to have betrayed his own father so deceptively? To have been behind this kind of scheming? And to have lied about it so well? For months?. He'd seen Harry with Cleo, and even though he might have unintentionally messed her about because he was confused about his sexuality, he'd always treated her with respect. He was a decent, moral, honourable young man. At least he thought he was. Harry had done all this—plotted this massive design with James—all to keep the truth about his cheating from Ste. Tony shook his head as he walked. Why would Harry _ever_ have been interested in a maggot like James at all?

He'd reached Marnie's flat. As angry as he was, he felt a little nervous too. He hadn't even planned what he was going to say. No matter. He just needed to face James and see what he had to say for himself. He rang the doorbell. There was no answer. He rang again, pushing the button a few times for emphasis. Still no answer. He shifted to his other foot impatiently, and aggressively banged on the door. "James! Open up!" He looked around, thinking he might be making yet a bigger fool of himself by yelling at the closed door. It seemed there were no onlookers for now. He looked back at the door, worried no one was in and his anger might have to go undirected until he could track James down.

Thankfully, just at that moment, he heard James's voice from within. "Alright, alright, I'm coming! Where's the fire?" James opened the door wearing nothing but a dressing gown tied at the waist and slippers. His hair was still wet from a shower. He looked down at Tony, an intrigued and almost amused expression on his face. "Tony Hutchinson. Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"It's 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and you're just stepping out of the shower?" Tony did not like the image of James without proper clothing on. And yet, how very in character it seemed somehow. Evilness and robes just seemed to match.

"What can I say, the life of a solicitor has its perks," James responded, his arms stretched out, grabbing either side of the doorframe.

Tony grabbed James's right arm and pushed it aside, forcing himself past the tall man and up into the flat, his eyes scanning the room. James seemed to be alone.

"Oh, do come in, won't you?" James said sarcastically with a raised voice, turning toward Tony and shutting the door behind him.

His scan of the flat revealing no others present, Tony turned his attentions to James. "It takes a sick or deranged kind of person to do what you did," he accused.

"Ohhh would you look at that!?" James reacted, his arms out palms up, feigning surprised interest. "It seems little Harry's finally come clean to Daddy, has he?" He looked sickeningly delighted. Tony could feel his rage boiling up again as vigorously as ever, threatening to bubble up over the brim of his restraint. James's guiltless pleasure as he looked confidently at Tony was a vicious taunt. "Shame really," he continued, "as I found the twinky bad boy mystique quite sexy."

 _Smack._ Before Tony had realised what had happened, he felt his right fist throbbing in pain. He looked at James, who was now holding his nose, a trickle of blood seeping through his long fingers. He bent forward and walked past Tony to get a tissue from the kitchen counter, holding it up to his nose, then inspecting the blood on it as if fascinated. Tony just watched him, holding his throbbing hand, his heart beating a mile a minute, his face hot. Watching James bleed was slightly satisfying, but the feeling quickly faded only to be replaced with yet more rage.

"Quite the right hook you have there, Tony," James said calmly, dabbing his nose with the tissue. "Luckily it doesn't seem to be broken. I could easily have you done for assault."

"Yeah, and _I_ could have _you_ done for a lot more than that, I reckon! Fraud, at the very least!"

"Oh come on now, Tony," James replied patronisingly, putting a fresh spot of tissue to his nose, satisfied that the bleeding had stopped. "Surely you can see that your business was going downhill fast. Your dear, sweet Harry was only looking out for you." Tony hated listening to James talk about Harry. He thought he'd hated Ste being with him, but he realised that was nothing compared to this. "You just needed an extra little push before the inevitable," James continued, with raised eyebrows. "Little Harry just helped me do that a bit more quickly," he finished with a satisfied smile.

"You made me think his life was in danger! You blackmailed him. And used him. And you made me betray my best mate for your own sick scheme. You're disgusting."

James had put the tissue in the bin beside him, and was now checking his phone on the counter, barely even listening to Tony's enraged insults, clearly not bothered in the least. "I didn't _make_ you do a thing." He sighed distractedly. "You're quite the good friend, aren't you Tony?" James said as if discovering this fact in the moment, then clicking his tongue as if scolding a child for sneaking a biscuit. "Robbing Ste of his business like that? Not to mention your _excellent_ parenting skills. I mean, really. What kind of father sues their own son?" James finished, mustering enough effort to look up from his phone long enough to give Tony a quick, judgemental once-over, before resuming.

"You're the one who-!" Tony stopped himself, clenching his teeth, realising his protests were pointless. James might be an evil mastermind, but Tony was the one who was willing to stoop as low as suing Harry for his housing deposit just to spite Ste.

"Oh, would you look at that!?" James buzzed, looking down at his phone. "It seems your delightful, handsome son has been trying to warn me of your… charming visit. Six missed calls. He really is very thoughtful." James looked up at Tony, enjoying the effect his taunts were having. He inhaled quickly as another thought came to him. "I'd say you've done an excellent job with him, but then, you're a deadbeat dad who had no hand in raising him, am I right?"

Tony's blood was boiling. He wanted to punch James again, but he was too far away. He couldn't think clearly or rationally, and he struggled to come up with anything to say. "You're a lying, cheating, scamming low-life, and you won't see another day in court if I have anything to do with it! I'll hire someone better than you, and have you thrown behind bars!"

"Now, now, Tony. That's no way to speak with the man who was generous enough to give your son and his dirty, druggie boyfriend a place to stay when they were down and out," James chirped, completely unaffected, putting his phone back on the counter and walking round it to put the kettle on.

Tony was confused. He looked at James with a frown. James looked up. "Ah, he failed to mention that part, did he?" James realised, revelling in Tony's ignorance. "Yes, they were sleeping rough. I caught them sleeping in The Hutch. I took pity on them and offered them an abandoned shed on one of my client's properties. What kind of a father throws his own son out on the street, leaving him to become a desperate rent-boy?"

"What did you call my son!? Say that again! See what happens!" Tony was blind with rage.

"Ohh," James sang out, clearly enjoying Tony's fury. "There's another little detail Harry seems to have left out." He walked out from behind the counter, approaching Tony, lowering his voice and staring Tony directly in the eye. "You know, I had an inkling that you might have guessed about my and Harry's recent…intimacy. We've been quite intimate, in fact." Tony didn't know how much more of this he could stand. James's snarling face was directly in front of him now, and was making him physically sick to his stomach. James raised his eyebrows. "Harry was so desperate for cash, he prostituted himself to me. Because his own father abandoned him." He paused, smirking. "You turned your own son into a homeless, dirty hustler."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I want to thank everyone who is sticking with this story despite the angst. This is a story I've wanted to tell because Hollyoaks' lack of fallout for its characters always frustrates me. Ste will be back in chapter 4, and please don't give up on this story, because I promise that Starry will get their "Fresh Start" in the end^^~~


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